


This is What You Will Wear to the End of the World

by Netgirl_y2k



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen, Post Finale, Redemption, Uneasy Allies, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-06
Updated: 2013-07-24
Packaged: 2017-12-14 04:09:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/832563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Netgirl_y2k/pseuds/Netgirl_y2k
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gwen is still adjusting to her new role as the ruling queen of Camelot, Morgana is only intermittently sorry and even less frequently sane, but life goes on, even after destiny has chewed you up and spat you out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part I: In which Morgana survives, has a crisis of morality, and throws herself on the mercy of the Queen of Camelot.

Sir Leon alone accompanied Gwen down to Camelot's dungeons; she had already heard everything Gaius had to say on this subject and then more, and Percival had been the one to find Gwaine's broken body, he didn't need this reminder. 

Gwen's breath caught when she saw the manacles hanging empty, and she didn't feel much better when she saw that Morgana was still behind bars, sitting with her back to the wall and her legs curled beneath her. 

If it was supposed to be some kind of message, that Morgana could have escaped her captivity completely but had chosen not to, then it displayed more subtlety than Gwen would ever have credited her with. 

Morgana held her hands up and her ragged sleeves fell back. "My wrists were chafing."

That, on the other hand--

"I should have you executed," said Gwen.

Truth be told, it wasn't mercy that had stayed Gwen's hand, nor was it memories of the Morgana of old. The sorceress's death would be nothing less than justice. But she still wasn't convinced that this wasn't some elaborate, paranoid trap, which would be sprung by any attempt to actually kill Morgana. 

"You could try," said Morgana flatly. "I don't seem to quite have the trick of dying."

Gwen would have asked what she meant by that, if only she cared.

Morgana had appeared at the castle gates close to a moon ago, wearing a dress that was more rags than anything else, with dirt streaked across her skin and leaf mulch in her hair. She'd surrendered peacefully to the guards, even suffering herself to be chained up in the dungeons.

All she'd asked since she'd been locked away, and she'd asked every day, was to speak with the queen.

Gwen hated that she was obliging her, but she had to know: "What did you come here for, Morgana?"

The dungeons were dimly lit, Morgana's features were still muck smudged and her tangled hair fell into her face; even so, Gwen could see the flash of her white teeth when she smiled.

"I want to help you."

Gwen would have laughed at that, if not for the fact that none of this was remotely amusing. "You can't expect me to believe that."

"No," said Morgana, her teeth flashing again. "But it's still the truth. And you can't afford to refuse me; the Saxons are testing your borders, sending raiding parties across. Lot and Odin too, at a guess. You don't have enough men to secure the kingdom."

 _Whose fault is that?_ Gwen almost wanted to say, but she was queen of Camelot now, while Morgana was a disheveled and soon to be condemned prisoner, she would not dignify her position by arguing with her.

"We can hold the citadel indefinitely," she said. 

Morgana's gaze flicked from Gwen to Leon. "Is that what you've been telling her?"

Gwen would have dismissed Morgana's remark as another baseless taunt if she hadn't seen Sir Leon flinch out of the corner of her eye. She swiveled on her heel and motioned for Leon to follow her from the dungeons.

*

In the bright light of day Leon looked guilty more than anything else. "Well?" she demanded.

"I'm sorry, Gwen. Gaius said--" 

_Gaius, of all--_ Gwen steadied her breathing. Leon had been her rock these last few months, whenever she thought that the grief would swallow her whole, whenever she thought that she couldn't possibly bear the weight of the kingdom, she thought of Leon standing tall and proud and shouting _Long Live the Queen_ louder than anybody. 

"Sir Leon, do you believe that I'm a fit ruler for Camelot?"

"Gwen! Your majesty! You know that I do."

"Good." Gwen smiled. "Then I need you to meet me in my chambers in an hour with Percival and anybody else you think may have sound advice, and you can tell me everything about our current situation."

*

Gaius looked up from his potions when Gwen entered. "You've seen Morgana," he said, sounding disappointed in a grandfatherly fashion. Gwen squared her shoulders, she was queen now, and in any case he was not her grandfather. 

"And spoken with Sir Leon about the true scale of the Saxon threat."

"My lady," said Gaius, "I only wished to spare you alarm."

"And you thought I would have found it less alarming to wake with a Saxon blade to my throat?" Gwen asked.

"That would never happen," Gaius insisted. "Merlin would never allow it.""

"Merlin is _not_ here," said Gwen, caught between grief and anger. She missed Merlin too, but she was still coming to terms with the revelation that she hadn't really known him at all. Over Gaius' shoulder Gwen could see that the table was set with two places for dinner, and she had to squash the urge to be kind. "You are not Merlin, Gaius, and I am not my husband; lie to me again, even if you think it's for my own good, and I'll have you removed from your position."

*

That night Gwen could not sleep. She thought on what Leon and Percival had told her; that Camelot's army was largely made up of grandfathers too frail and boys too green to have fought at Camlann, with the odd injured veteran here and there for colour. They could hold Camelot for a few months, weeks if the Saxons realised how weakly the borders were guarded and pressed for the citadel in force. 

She tossed and turned, then got up, wrapped herself in a robe, and slipped a dagger of Arthur's through the sash. 

It was strange, Gwen thought, in death there were more of Arthur's clothes and possessions strewn around her bedchamber than there had been when her husband was alive. 

Morgana was the only prisoner in the dungeon, and even though Gwen stole in on quiet feet Morgana continued to twitch and whimper in her sleep for only a few seconds before she froze, her head jerked up, and she looked at Gwen with wide, terrified eyes. 

Gwen was reminded that Morgana had been a prisoner of crueler jailers than her, and she almost surprised herself by not feeling any pity. 

Morgana's gaze cleared as she realised where she was and who was with her. She smirked and said, "Queen Guinevere, odd hour for a social call." 

"I talked to Leon and Gaius, about the Saxons."

"You know I'm telling the truth, then."

Gwen nodded. "I know the Saxons are invading. It could be at your command for all I know. But I've come to tell you why, even if I believed you for a second, I will never, ever accept your aid."

Gwen stepped up to the bars, closer than Leon had allowed her to get earlier, and beckoned for Morgana to come close. Morgana cocked her head curiously and got to her feet, looking more like an oversized carrion bird than the terror of Camelot. 

It was the stench of her that struck Gwen. She briefly wondered if it was possible to smell the decay of someone's soul? But, no, Morgana had passed several weeks in Camelot's dungeons and had been living ill for some time before that; it was the smell of poor diet, embedded dirt, and the decaying leaf matter in her hair. 

When they were toe to toe, Gwen took Arthur's dagger and pressed it against Morgana's belly. 

"Do you remember Tyr Seward? This is how I killed him, a knife to the belly and I left him to die cold and alone in this very cell. That was what you made me, a murderess. You turned me against myself. He was a good man, Tyr, a harmless man. I'd known him my whole life, and your magic made me kill him in cold blood. You used to ride every day, I remember that, you must have known him, I'm sure he was kind to you. Do you even care?"

Gwen looked up from where the dagger pricked Morgana's flesh, she expected Morgana's eyes to be wide with fear and anger. It would almost be easier that way, if Morgana's eyes had flashed violent amber and Gwen had found herself thrown back through the air. _Off with her head, by order of the queen!_

Instead her jaw was clenched, but her eyes were closed and she seemed to be going to great pains not to react. "Not yet," said Morgana eventually.

"Not yet?" That wasn't even an answer.

Morgana's eyes flickered open. "I'm trying, Gwen. Really, I am."

Gwen snatched her dagger back. "It doesn't matter. It doesn't change anything. You're still a monster."

Morgana smirked at that. "He's not coming back, you know. It seems Camelot has a vacancy for a monster."

"Arthur wasn't a monster."

"I'm not talking about my dear, departed brother. I'm talking about Emrys."

"Who?"

Morgana laughed, then. It was a grating sound and Gwen tried not to flinch from it. "Merlin, Gwen, do try to keep up."

Gwen turned and tried to keep her steps slow enough to fool both Morgana and herself that she wasn't fleeing.

*

Morgana's smell haunted Gwen more than her words.

"We're letting her bathe?" the captain of the dungeon guard asked with some confusion. "But, your majesty, I thought she was for--" He drew his hand sharply across his throat.

"The date for her execution has not yet been set," said Gwen. "But Camelot is not cruel to prisoners, I will not have her putrefy down here." Gwen nodded and the cell door was unlocked and three guards pointed swords at Morgana's throat while a maidservant deposited a basin of lukewarm water, a rag, and a sliver of soap on the floor. 

Gwen could not have said if it was memory of Sarrum, or memory of that time so long ago when Morgana had used bathing as a distraction to engineer escape when captured with Gwen that compelled her to order the guards to retreat to the far side of the dungeons and turn their backs.

Gwen turned her back too. She heard rustling clothes and the splash of water. "Even if I believed that you are not behind the Saxon attacks, why would you offer to help, after everything?" she asked.

Morgana went silent, and then, "--Do you really need to hear me say it?"

"Yes." Gwen turned around. Morgana was kneeling before the basin of water, stripped to the waist. It was nothing Gwen hadn't seen before, but it wasn't the same, Morgana's shoulders, breasts, and abdomen were crisscrossed with scars; some were like the scars Arthur had borne, marks of glancing sword blows, and some were... not. 

"If you want--" Gwen would not promise Morgana her freedom, would not even promise her her life "--if you ever want me to come down here and speak with you again you'll tell me."

"I've done terrible things, Gwen, things I could never have imagined myself doing. You think I don't know that, but I do."

"Are you even sorry for them?" Gwen didn't know why she asked, Morgana's sorrow would not change anything, it would not restore Arthur or the multitudes dead by her hand or at her word. 

Still, she flinched when Morgana said, "No. But if it makes you feel better, know that I have suffered for my sins."

Gwen thought of Sarrum, of the scars running across Morgana's sides; she weighed them against the loss of her husband and brother, the dead of Camlann, and the weight of a kingdom on her shoulders and found them wanting. She childishly wanted to say _not enough, not nearly enough_. Instead she said, as scathingly as she could, "How, exactly, have you suffered?"

Morgana picked up the basin of water, tipped it over her head, shivered and shook herself like a dog. "I died, Gwen," she said simply. 

*

It was true that Morgana's death had been presumed.

Gaius claimed that Merlin would never have vanished if he'd believed Morgana were still a threat to Camelot.

Leon, Percival, and the rest of the council had been sure that if Morgana were still at large she would have attacked Camelot while the kingdom was grieving and confused in the wake of the king's death. 

Gwen had to agree with the council, and she thought that if this was an attack it was a particularly opaque one, even by Morgana's standards. 

*

"We did get reports of your death," said Gwen, without waiting for Morgana to shake herself to full wakefulness or pick herself up from her bed of straw.

"It was Merlin, in the end." Morgana had the affront to sound offended by that, that it had been a servant. "Sword through the back."

"And yet here you are."

Morgana laughed an unhappy laugh. "Even the great Emrys doesn't know everything about dragons, it seems."

"What does that mean?" Gwen demanded.

"It means that should you ever decided to finally put an end to me, Queen Guinevere, you should keep an eye out for nearby white dragons with the power of resurrection."

"So you died, and were revived with an urgent desire to turn over a new leaf?" If Gwen had been trying to hide her disbelief she would have failed. 

"I woke up spitting blood, and with an urgent desire to kill every man, woman, and child in Camelot."

"What changed?" Gwen asked, the _if anything_ went unspoken.

"Uther was dead, Arthur was dead, Merlin was gone, Gaius was a broken-hearted old man. And you--" Morgana smiled wanly "--hating you always was the hardest thing, the thing that made the least sense when I couldn't help but think about it."

"I couldn't tell," Gwen said, dryly.

"What I lacked in logic I made up in sheer vitriol. And this," Morgana gestured around her cell, "all this trying to be a better woman, Aithusa asked it of me." 

Hang on, Gwen thought, wasn't Aithusa-- "The dragon? The one who burned men alive at Camlann?"

"She did that because I asked her to. You're a Pendragon by marriage, Gwen, surely you've noticed that people do terrible things for the love of us. Of course," Morgana added with not a little bitterness, "more for some of us than others."

Gwen had heard enough, she had already turned to leave when the other woman called after her: "I love her, you know. I spent two years chained at the bottom of a pit for love of her. I allowed Sarrum to--" Morgana stopped and then continued in a smaller voice, "I thought that this would be easier."

*

Every day refugees arrived from outlying villages burned and sacked by the Saxons. Gwen opened the citadel gates to them, and worried about how they were going to feed the new arrivals as well as laying in provisions for a siege.

*

It was Sir Percival who accompanied Gwen to the dungeons this time. Percival had always been the type to keep his counsel to himself, so he didn't say that if they had any sense they'd brick up this part of the dungeons with Morgana inside and never think of her again, but if he wasn't thinking it then he was the only one.

Percival had easily carried the chair down from the Round Table. He set it down just short of the bars to Morgana's cell. Gwen stepped past him, sat, and smoothed her skirts over her knees.

Morgana was sitting on the floor of her cell. She looked expectantly at Percival for a moment, and when it became obvious that there was no second chair coming she leveraged herself up the wall and stood with her arms crossed. 

"You killed Arthur."

"Mordred killed Arthur."

"You turned Mordred against him."

"Arthur turned Mordred against him quite well all by himself."

Gwen stood up so sharply that the heavy wooden chair rocked back on two legs. "This is pointless. I don't know why I--"

"What do you want me to say, Gwen? That I hated my brother, that I engineered his death, that I would have gloated over his corpse and spat on his grave had I been alive to see either. Because it's all true, and you knew that before you came down here, so what do you want me to say?"

Gwen stood rooted to the spot. She wasn't sure what she had expected when she'd had Percival escort her down here, some sort of cathartic confrontation about Arthur, perhaps, or a reason to finally sign the execution order that had been sitting among her papers for weeks now? 

It was Morgana who broke the silence. "Have you heard the rumours about your husband, my lady?"

Gwen pinched the bridge of her nose against the encroaching headache and answered despite herself. "Which rumours?"

"The ones that say he isn't really dead, that he's been taken to Avalon, and will return when Albion needs him most."

Gwen actually had heard those rumours, although she'd paid them little notice. They originated with the druids, and Gwen trusted the druids about as much as she trusted rumours. And false hope was worse than no hope. 

Morgana laughed darkly. "A high priestess left to rot in the mud, while a man who did nothing but hate and fear magic until his dying day was sent to Avalon. Even I can take a suitably brutal and unsubtle hint."

"It's true, then?" Gwen asked. "About Arthur."

Morgana shrugged diffidently. "It's true that Merlin sent him to Avalon, whether or not the inhabitants set fire to his boat and threw him to the nearest kraken as soon as he touched shore is another matter."

"Because that's what you would have done had you been there?"

"Lucky for Arthur, I'm not there."

*

One of today's refugees was a young boy who'd seen both of his parents murdered. Gwen saw him fostered with a family she'd known when she lived in the lower town, and shied away from the thought that if the Saxons took the city he might have a chance to see his foster parents butchered too. 

Gwen still wasn't convinced of Morgana's crisis of morality, and even if she had been, a promise to a mysterious dragon and a jealousy of Arthur that transcended even death were hardly the purest of motives--

Arthur would have understood, though, the safety of Camelot had to be paramount no matter how risky the strategy. 

Arthur would have understood, but she would not ask Leon or Percival to, not yet, and so it was alone that Gwen ventured down to the dungeons to stand before Morgana's cell.

"Can you stop the Saxon invasion?"

"Yes."

"I can't spare any men for you to take," said Gwen. Couldn't spare them and wouldn't even if she could.

"They'd only get in my way."

"Do you need me to unlock the cell, or can you--?" Morgana vanished in a vicious whirlwind that kicked up dust and straw and made Gwen's eyes water. "Ask a stupid question get a stupid answer," Gwen said to the empty cell.

*

Gwen didn't think she'd be able to get any sleep. If Morgana was conspiring with the Saxon army then Gwen had sent her straight into the arms of her allies, and even if she wasn't there was every reason for the sorceress to simply flee and leave Camelot to its fate, which would at least solve one of Gwen's problems.

She must have managed to drift off because she was awoken when all the candles in her bedchamber flared alight at once. She lurched up to find Morgana standing at the foot of the bed and smiling at her, it was a smile that made Gwen long for Morgana's half-hearted smirks and bitter laughter, this was a smile being smiled from the far side of sanity. 

It was only then that Gwen noticed that Morgana's hands were bloody.

"It's done," said Morgana, and Gwen watched a drop of blood fall from Morgana's fingernail and splash onto the bedclothes. 

Morgana gave a curtsy, it was a terrible curtsy; Gwen couldn't tell if it was meant as a mockery or if she was just out of practice. "Back to the dungeons with me then, your majesty?"

*

There were reports from people who hadn't fled the villages; they'd heard screams in the night and inhuman sounding howls. Then the bodies were discovered, broken and bloody the corpses of the Saxon leaders were strung from trees along Camelot's borders. Their army broke and fled for the coast.

Gwen missed Merlin and the days where Camelot may have been protected by magic, yes, but it was still possible to pretend that it was the vigilance and bravery of Arthur and his knights alone that kept the kingdom secure.

Every day Gwen looked at Morgana's execution order and called for ink. 

She briefly considered commuting the sentence to exile, but who knew what Morgana might do out in the world, especially if she thought that her overtures towards Camelot had been rebuffed.

No, Gwen's choice was a stark one: she could kill Morgana, or she could keep her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part II: In which there is a funeral, an assassination attempt, and a flying visit from a dragon.

The room was intended for the servants of visiting nobility. There was a high, narrow window that caught the sun for about half an hour a day in the summer and not at all in the winter. It was furnished with a single straight-backed wooden chair, a narrow bed with a thin mattress, and a lone empty shelf. In all likelihood it was more than Morgana deserved. 

"I will not give you back your old chambers," said Gwen.

Morgana's old rooms had sat empty ever since she'd last used them. Not as any kind of a shrine, to be sure. Nobody would go so far as to claim they were haunted, but a woman had gone mad inside those rooms, and thus far nobody had proved eager to take them over. 

"I've slept in worse," said Morgana, perching on the edge of the bed.

Morgana was calm again, quiet and resigned to whatever fate Gwen had in store for her. The undertow of madness that the queen had seen the night Morgana returned from running off the Saxons was not in evidence - forced down by strength of will and held at bay with fingernails and gritted teeth - but Gwen would be a fool to believe it gone for good. 

She still wasn't certain she hadn't branded herself the queen of fools the moment she'd ordered the guard to unlock Morgana's cell, looked at the sorceress, and said _follow me._

It was remembering the insanity in Morgana's eyes that prompted Gwen to say, "After you turned against us, Arthur sometimes spoke of sorcery as if it were some kind of infection. As though the woman you were before had been destroyed by the magic, and _you_ were just someone who happened to look like her."

"Arthur was an idiot," said Morgana with a dearth of real feeling. "Do you agree with him?"

"No," said Gwen simply. "You always were selfish and unkind."

She didn't say that once upon a time, that wasn't all Morgana had been.

*

To Gwen's utter lack of surprise her decision to release Morgana from the cells was not a popular one. But she would not be the sort of ruler who said _my word is law_ and refused to be questioned. She spent a long afternoon cloistered with the council explaining that Morgana's improved circumstances did not mean she had been granted her freedom, only a larger and more civilised cage. It was possibly the best way to look at the situation, and if Morgana used the additional rope she'd been given to hang herself, well, that was no doing of Gwen's.

When the meeting finally came to a close Percival spoke up, "I'll see to it that she is watched wherever she goes and whatever she does."

"Thank you, Sir Percival," said Gwen. "I think that would be wise."

Leon hung back after the others had departed. Gwen was suddenly glad that his commitment to being her strong right hand had prevented him from voicing his doubts in public. 

"I know," she said in the face of his silence. "I don't like it either."

"My lady, please don't take this the wrong way, but I'm worried that you're being blinded by your old friendship with her."

"Morgana killed my husband and king, she killed my brother, she made numerous attempts to take my throne, and almost as many to take my life--" Uther's mind had broken when he couldn't deal with the reality of Morgana as she was, Merlin had hated Morgana with deep yet impersonal feeling, and Arthur had by turns thought his sister confused, mad, or possessed by some external force of evil "--I think I see her more clearly than anyone."

"As you say. Then why--?"

"Do you know Morgana claims that she can't be killed?" Gwen interrupted him. 

"I know more than a few people who'd like to test that claim."

Gwen couldn't help but smile. "Don't we all." Strange as it was, Gwen believed that Morgana meant to change. At least, she believed that Morgana believed it, but she did not believe that however good her intentions Morgana would meekly kneel for the headsman's axe. "If I order her execution people _will_ die, and I cannot even be sure that Morgana would be among them."

"But to allow her to remain _here_ , Gwen?"

Gwen well understood his point. The number of people in Camelot who had not been harmed either directly or indirectly by Morgana could be counted on the fingers of one hand, but-- "We could never entirely defeat her, Leon, not even with Merlin..."

Leon's gaze slid away from Gwen's, and Gwen was perversely pleased that she was not the only one having trouble dealing with the recent revelations about their friend. She wondered if this was part of the reason Merlin stayed away. 

"She was a noose around my husband's reign." Arthur had dreamed of a kingdom united by honour and justice, and time and again he'd been forced to ally with men who disgusted him because they were willing to fight Morgana. "If I can prevent her from becoming a noose around mine then I must try."

Gwen thought of what had befallen the Saxon leaders-- and this she would not tell Leon, whose good opinion she valued so highly, but she was not sure that having a notoriously powerful and unstable sorceress _inside_ Camelot would not prove a useful disincentive to the likes of Lot and Odin.

*

Blinded by friendship, it was almost funny.

"Did you ever think of me as a friend?" Gwen asked. It was a strange question and Morgana took her time thinking about it. 

Morgana was not confined to her small room, but thus far she had shown little inclination to leave it. She was sitting on the bed, plucking at the blankets with ragged, chewed fingernails, and Gwen was perched on the arm of the chair; the height difference was not much, but it was there. The door was ajar and two of the queen's guard stood just outside trying to appear invisible.

"Sometimes," said Morgana carefully. "Mostly I thought of you as a possession, or as some kind of pet."

"A pet?" said Gwen. She had become used to being little more than collateral damage in Morgana's eyes, but still-- a pet?

"A sort of a mascot, then," said Morgana. "Before Merlin Arthur didn't have much of a reputation for being kind to servants, frankly, after Merlin he still didn't have much of a reputation for being kind to servants, and you know how much I liked to set myself apart from my brother."

"You succeeded in that."

"Not so well as I would have liked," said Morgana. "What about you, did you ever think we were friends?"

"It was a good job, it paid well enough, and you weren't a cruel or overly demanding mistress. And you so wanted a friend, you didn't seem to have any others. And with the nightmares... I felt sorry for you."

Morgana's fingers clenched in the bedclothes, she swallowed and looked away. She always could stand to be hated in a way she couldn't stand to be pitied.

"I wanted it to be real," said Morgana without looking at Gwen, "for a time."

Gwen thought of those girls; the lady's maid and the king's ward, playing at friendship for so long that they'd almost forgotten it was make believe. She doubted they'd recognise the widowed queen and disgraced sorceress that they'd become. 

"How far we've come," said Gwen.

*

"Have you seen Gaius?" Leon asked.

"Not since--" Gwen had to pause and think about how long it had been, days, perhaps weeks? He had stopped coming to council meetings, she'd noticed, but when she thought about it at all she'd thought that his physician duties must be keeping him busy, or that he'd taken their crossed words over the Saxon threat to heart. Largely she'd been relieved that he didn't seem to want to discuss Morgana with her.

"You should," said Leon gravely.

*

For all that Gaius was the court physician this was the first time Gwen recalled such a pervasive smell of illness dominating his rooms.

Gaius was lying on his cot in the middle of the day, his skin had greenish-grey pallor to it, and the bones of his skull were frighteningly prominent. The maidservant who'd been watching over him dropped Gwen a curtsy and departed. 

"Gaius," Gwen breathed.

"Guinevere," Gaius said, the word was a ragged exhale of breath. He extended a quivering hand to her, and Gwen rushed over to take it.

"Have you seen a physician?"

"I've seen the finest physician in Albion, my dear, the court physician of Camelot."

Gwen smiled, mostly because Gaius seemed to want her to. "What did he have to say?"

"He said that I'm an old man, and it's my time."

Gaius had lied to her. He had been arrogant and presumptive in his dealings with her ever since she'd become queen. He had lied to Arthur, about Merlin at the very least, and probably more. But he had been her friend too, he had saved her life, he had been a sympathetic shoulder when she needed one most. 

More than that, he had been part of the fabric of Camelot since Gwen had been a child, and after everything she couldn't stand to lose him too.

" _Gaius..._ " Gwen poured everything she felt into his name.

"It's fine, Gwen. It's my time, that's all."

*

"Gaius is dying."

Morgana's face remained blank. Well and good, Gwen had sworn to herself that if Morgana laughed, if her lips so much as twitched, then it would be back to the dungeons with her.

"And--?"

"You could save him, if you wanted to."

"Oh, Guinevere, the things I could do if I wanted to would shock you to your very soul."

"Couldn't you?" Gwen demanded.

"Let me see if I understand correctly, you wish me to use magic to save Gaius?" Morgana had been sitting hunched in on herself when Gwen entered her room without warning; but now she uncoiled like a snake, smiling a predatory smile.

Ever since Morgana had returned there had been a knot of distaste, dislike, and anger sitting like a stone in Gwen's stomach, and right now she could feel it expanding and trying to claw its way up her throat.

Blind to this Morgana continued, "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, hypocrisy is the grand tradition of Camelot after all."

Gwen swallowed her feelings. "You said that you wanted to help."

Morgana lurched forward so sharply that Gwen wouldn't have been surprised had she fallen from the chair, her predatory grace of a moment ago deserting her. "I want to help _you,_ " she hissed. "Not him. Never him."

Morgana breathed harshly through her nose and gradually she seemed to get herself under some manner of control. Gwen felt she had to give it one final attempt: "Surely there must be other sorcerers who could--"

"Oh, surely," said Morgana dismissively, "but whether any of them are so amoral as to help a traitor like Gaius I couldn't possibly say."

Gwen turned on her heel; the only thing more foolish than making this request in the first place would be staying to debate comparative morality with Morgana.

*

"You should be upstairs," said Gwen. "There's a proper bed, you'd be more comfortable."

"That's Merlin's room," replied Gaius. 

Gwen was reminded that while she'd lost a friend, and Camelot had lost a - unheralded, unthanked, _unasked for_ \- guardian, Gaius had lost something like a son. 

*

Gwen wasn't sure if she was trying to inspire Morgana to fear or pity when she said, "Gaius thinks that Merlin will return."

She didn't tell Morgana about Gaius keeping Merlin's room free for him, or of the supper table laid for two. These were kindly meant, terribly sad gestures, and Morgana would find some way to make them a mockery.

Morgana snorted in disbelief and said, "If Merlin ever cared about anything other than my dear, dead brother he stopped a very long time ago."

"That's not true," said Gwen, unthinkingly because if she'd stopped to think about it she might have said nothing at all.

"You know," said Morgana thoughtfully, "back when I had you under the mandrake's spell, if I'd offered to leave Arthur be, Merlin probably would have let me keep you."

If that was Morgana's idea of a joke then it wasn't at all funny. Somehow Gwen didn't think that she was joking.

*

"You can't trust her, Gwen."

"I don't." 

Gaius was dying so Gwen was spared having to say, _but I don't entirely trust you either._

*

Gwen watched the funeral pyre until it had all but burned itself out.

Most people left before that, and among those who stayed Gwen had recognised the sorcerer from the cliffs of Camlann. She saw him across the courtyard but didn't move to join him. If Merlin had wanted to speak to her he would have come as himself, and Gwen honestly wasn't sure she wanted to speak to him either. 

She was _never_ sure that she wanted to speak with Morgana, but she'd become aware of the sorceress skulking about up in the battlements, so she turned aside, picked up her skirts, and ascended the winding staircase that would lead her to the castle roof, trailed by two members of her guard. 

Morgana wasn't particularly forbidden from the battlements. In fact to considerable collective relief she was rarely seen about the castle, although she must venture out occasionally for food and washing water because her appearance was now merely brittle and haunted rather than corpse-like; Gwen was still to decide if she considered that a good thing.

Morgana wasn't watching the funeral rites, and she didn't turn to look at Gwen. She was staring up into the sky, the wind snatching at her dress and hair. 

"He's dead, then?"

Gwen ignored her and said, "What are you doing up here, Morgana?"

"Waiting."

Gwen felt apprehension crawling up her spine, but before she could give voice to the feeling one of her guards cried "--Dragon!"

One man fumbled pointlessly at his sword belt, the other hefted his halberd as though to throw. Morgana's arm jumped up, her sleeve falling back and her fingers splayed. 

"Stop!" Gwen ordered. There was no room for doubt in her voice, she was the queen of Camelot and she _would_ be obeyed.

The moment stretched on; five heartbeats, ten. Gwen looked upwards, the beast was silhouetted against the sky, too high for her to make out any details beyond its general shape. 

"It's too high." Gwen addressed the guard readying himself to throw. "Put that down, right now." The man obeyed with alacrity. 

"She won't hurt anybody," said Morgana. "She's just checking up on me, saying hello." 

It was true, as far as it went, that the creature was not descending. The dragon circled and rolled in the air, then let out a scream. Morgana might have described the sound as a roar, but Gwen had been in Camelot when the great dragon was laying siege to it, when defeat at Camlann had seemed certain, and she heard screaming.

Morgana held her hand up in greeting until the dragon gave a final scream and disappeared into the distance. 

The look on Morgana's upturned face-- the sorceress had kept a tight lid on her emotions since returning to Camelot, and Gwen was almost used to her occasional outbursts of rage, bitterness, or madness, but she quickly turned her back on Morgana's smile of mingled peace and longing.

*

"She saved my life, you know," said Morgana. "And she loved me unconditionally when no one else did."

"You murder people, Morgana, that's a rather significant condition."

"If you want to talk about murderers--"

"I don't," interrupted Gwen. "I want to talk about the dragon." She wasn't even sure why she was so interested. True, it had been easier to believe that Morgana was simply incapable of human affection, but people who sincerely loved their pets were capable of atrocities too.

"Merlin took everything from me; my sister, my brother, the life that should have been mine. Aithusa was the only thing I ever took from him. She hates him, truly hates him." Morgana's lips twitched into a tiny smirk. "Perhaps even more than I do." 

"Wait--" said Gwen. Of course by now she realised that Merlin had been living a secret life that she hadn't been privy to, and that she'd likely never know the full extent of it now that Gaius was dead and Morgana was hardly an unbiased source of information, but-- "I thought that Merlin was a dragonlord."

"Yes. A man who can compel a dragon to obey his every word, who can force them to act against their will and do things that they'd never choose to do. No wonder most dragons despised them."

Gwen stared at Morgana. True, Morgana's mind didn't exactly run along familiar, well-worn tracks, but she wasn't _stupid_. 

Surely she realised what she'd just said, surely she finally understood the horror of what she'd put Gwen through.

The silence stretched on and on, and Gwen turned away in disgust.

*

Gwen's reign lasted for ten months before the first assassination attempt. 

She was receiving petitions from the people of Camelot. A boy came forward, he was a young man, really, but draped in his oversized cloak he looked like little more than a child. He knelt, and quicker than Gwen would have believed he'd produced a dagger from the hidden folds of his cloak, flipped it over and caught it by the point. He whipped it back as though to throw it straight at Gwen. 

There was a moment where time seemed to stop. Percival lunged for the would-be assassin, Leon shouted Gwen's name, and the boy held his dagger over his shoulder ready to loose it at Gwen. 

Then Gwen realised that the reason for this impression was that the assassin _couldn't_ throw his dagger. The wiry muscles of his arm strained and twitched, he made a hissed sound of frustration through his teeth, but his body would not cooperate.

She looked up and saw Morgana standing on the throne room balcony, eyes hard and her hand outcast. 

Gwen's would-be murderer emitted an animalistic sound of pain drawing her attention back to him. She could see that the dagger was growing hot, the steel glowed red, but the boy seemed unable to release it. The smell of burning flesh reached Gwen's nostrils before her brain caught up with events and she shouted, "Morgana, release him!"

The dagger clattered onto the stone floor; Percival wrestled the boy to ground, helped by the fact that he was already halfway there, curled around his injured hand. The courtiers exchanged shocked glances and whispers. Leon pulled Gwen to her feet, checking her for injuries, and apologising profusely for not checking the petitioners for weapons thoroughly enough.

Gwen brushed off his concern with polite assurances and looked up just in time to see Morgana vanishing through the far doors.

*

"The boy isn't a sorcerer," said Gwen. Morgana was reading when Gwen entered her room unannounced, a book of magic that would have been proscribed under Arthur's rule and a justification for summary execution under Uther's. "Percival put him to the question and he claims this has nothing to do with magic."

Morgana carefully set her book aside, not even trying to hide the title from Gwen. "I know."

Morgana's small room looked at least a little lived in now. A spare dress, scratchy lace in numerous shades of black, was folded over the back of the chair, along with a sleeping shift. The single shelf now held three books, a crystal, a bracelet, and a small sculpture. The window ledge was lined with candles.

"If he had been magical," Gwen asked, "would you have... intervened as you did?"

"In that event I'm sure that Leon and Percival would have defended you admirably." 

Gwen nodded, unsurprised. She should have known by now not to ask Morgana questions to which she did not truly wish to know the answers.

"How did you know there was going to be an attempt on my life?" If Gwen wasn't suspicious it was only because she could think of ninety-three simpler ways Morgana could have had her killed in the last few weeks alone.

Morgana's gaze flicked briefly to the collection of objects on the shelf. "I had a dream." She changed the subject quickly. "Did Percival find out who sent him?"

"Odin--" That was first reason for Gwen's visit "--You were allied with him for a time."

"As was Arthur."

"Still. How would you describe him?"

"Slimy. Unreliable. Easily led, not that bright. I doubt he came up with this by himself."

"Lot," said Gwen. It was the conclusion she'd come to with Leon and Percival earlier.

"Lot," agreed Morgana. "And I doubt this will be their only attempt."

The council had agreed on that point too. Gwen nodded and turned to leave. Somewhat reluctantly she stopped and looked over her shoulder, there was still the second reason for her visit to Morgana. 

There were a number of things she might have said, _Merlin would have acted more subtly_ , or, _Merlin would not have tormented the boy until he lost the use of his hand._

"I suppose I should thank you for saving my life," she said.

"Yes," said Morgana, "I suppose you should."

*

Gwen was in the bath when Morgana appeared in her chambers. 

She hadn't spoken to the sorceress in several weeks, and Morgana had obviously grown tired of waiting for Gwen to _ask_ ; patience never had been one of Morgana's virtues.

Gwen's breasts were exposed, and she resisted the urge to reach out for something to cover herself with or to slouch down under the water. Whatever it was in Morgana's gaze it wasn't prurient. Gwen stared back levelly and waited for Morgana to speak. 

"I could kill Lot and Odin."

"No."

Mostly, it was a matter of pragmatism. Lot and Odin were known quantities and who knew who might rise up to take their places?

But there also seemed to Gwen to be a world of difference between using the mere presence of Morgana as an unspoken threat, and actually sending her out as Gwen's royally sanctioned assassin. And, whatever internal war Morgana was waging against herself, further bloodshed would not help her win it. 

"If you prefer," Morgana said, her face twisting into an unattractive sneer, "I could skulk around in the dark, doing your dirty work in secret so as not to offend your delicate sensibilities." 

_This is the thanks I get for trying to help you--?_ "What I would _prefer_ ," said Gwen, "is for you to remove yourself from my presence."

That could have meant any number of things; Morgana chose to interpret it as an instruction to absent herself from Gwen's chambers, and did so.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part III: In which Morgana provokes Gwen to violence, it helps.

"Arthur was a terrible king."

Morgana's words grated straight across Gwen's nerves, and it was almost without conscious thought that the queen lashed out.

The empty throne room echoed with the sound of the slap. 

Morgana raised her fingers to her rapidly reddening cheek and her lips quirked upwards into a smirk; for some reason that angered Gwen even more than her initial words. 

_She is trying to provoke me,_ the thought reached Gwen as though from very far away, but she was already raising her hand again. This time Morgana caught Gwen by the wrist before the blow could land. 

Gwen spoke with Morgana often, was even alone with her from time to time, unwise as that may be, but she had been careful never to touch her. Even so, her skin stubbornly failed to slough off in sheer disgust. 

It had always been easy to forget how slightly Morgana was built; self-assurance and entitlement had made her appear taller in youth, and fear, rage and magic all had a similar effect later on. 

It occurred to Gwen that she could probably overpower Morgana. The other woman was slightly taller, and more skilled with a blade, not that Gwen was so foolish as to let her carry so much as a table knife; but she was also brittle and bird-boned, it would be easy to think her breakable if you didn't know about the magic. 

There was _always_ the magic to consider. 

Gwen freed herself from Morgana's grip relatively easily, and took three definite steps back. She resolved that she would not allow Morgana to chase her from her own throne room.

"Must I summon the guards and have you removed?" she said.

Morgana shrugged diffidently, and brushed past Gwen on her way to the door.

*

Gwen went up to the battlements to calm herself and take some air. 

A queen should not strike her prisoners, she knew, and no woman in her right mind would hit a sorceress capable of snapping a man's neck with a gesture. 

It was odd. Morgana had said all manner of cruel things before; sometimes during moments of boredom and pique, and sometimes as part of what Gwen took to be heartfelt, if faltering and poorly constructed, attempts to explain herself. Nothing else had ever angered Gwen quite so much. 

"Your majesty?"

Gwen had wished to spend some time alone, but the queen standing unaccompanied upon the battlements was the sort of thing that would prompt investigation sooner rather than later. She sighed and turned in greeting. "Sir Percival."

Occasionally Gwen missed the comparative freedom and anonymity of being a servant. But she seemed to spend most of her time these days missing things, Arthur and Elyan most frequently. She even missed simpler times when she knew where she stood in relation to Morgana, even if that was at the point of a sword.

"Is everything quite alright, my lady?"

"I struck Morgana."

Percival was silent for a long moment, and then he said, "Hard?"

Gwen couldn't help the smile that crept onto her face, and she lifted her hand to her mouth to hide it. She wondered if Percival was thinking of Gwaine, and realised she couldn't remember the last time she'd spared him a thought. Her smile vanished and she said, "Hard enough."

"Did she--?"

"No," said Gwen. "She just stood there." All of a sudden Gwen wasn't sure if she was angry with Morgana for what she'd said, for her lack of a reaction, or at herself for being so easily provoked. 

Percival stepped forward and leaned against the stonework, and Gwen turned so that they were both looking out over the kingdom. They stood for some time in companionable silence before Percival said, "I stabbed her once."

"And--"

"It barely slowed her down. Gwaine died, and now I will always be a man who was prepared to stab an unarmed woman in the back, even a woman such as Morgana."

"Hardly unarmed," Gwen said. She turned slightly, just until she could see Percival's profile. "Sir Percival, I have never told you how glad I am that you chose to remain in Camelot after my husband's death."

Percival frowned, puzzled and pleased. "My lady, I never thought of going anywhere else."

*

Gwen knocked on Morgana's door, and then opened it without waiting for a response. Morgana merely raised an eyebrow at the intrusion, but the shabby looking crow perched on the windowsill emitted a loud and irritated croak. 

Gwen leaned in the doorway and folded her arms across her chest. She looked significantly from Morgana to the bird and back again.

"Oh, that," said Morgana. "I felt starved for intelligent conversation."

Gwen frowned. She hadn't exactly forbidden Morgana from outside correspondence, but surely it went without saying. Anyway, to the best of her knowledge Morgana's only friend was a mute dragon. 

Then again, it was entirely possible that Morgana meant that she had been conversing _with_ the crow.

Before she could inquire further Morgana waved a dismissive hand at the bird, which ruffled its feathers indignantly and launched itself out the window.

"Queen Guinevere--"

"Don't," said Gwen. "Just. Don't."

Unfortunately Morgana's general self-centeredness and scattershot patterns of thought meant that not only was she incapable of taking a hint, but she could quite easily pick up the threads of a conversation that any sane person would have dropped _days_ ago. 

"It's true, though," said Morgana. The whine in her voice was familiar of old, and it might have been amusing under other circumstances. "Arthur never became the great king we all wanted to believe he would be."

Gwen heard the _we all_ and almost snorted in disbelief. She sometimes thought that this was one of the things that differed her from Morgana, and from Merlin too, that she hadn't needed Arthur to be some great figure of legend. She had wanted him to be the best version of himself, but she hadn't needed him to be anything other than the man she loved.

"Morgana," said Gwen, her tone a warning. 

"I'm not-- Arthur was a brave knight, and a gifted commander. If you say he was a good husband, well, I'll be suspicious, but I'll believe you. Who knows, he may even have proved a decent enough brother had I ever afforded him the opportunity, but as a king he was barely mediocre."

The sudden burning anger that had compelled Gwen to strike Morgana in the throne room was nowhere to be found, and in its place was a profound sense of exhaustion. She stepped into the room and sank gratefully down on the corner of Morgana's bed, the only chair already being occupied by Morgana herself. 

Morgana hadn't killed anybody in more than half a year; longer if you could discount her butchery of the Saxon leaders, which Gwen couldn't. Still, she could probably be allowed two chairs.

"Arthur did his best," Gwen said, and thought, _he might have done better if you hadn't been snapping at his heels the whole time._

"I know," said Morgana, a wistful note to her voice that Gwen chose not to hear.

*

There was to be a tournament in Camelot, the first of Gwen's reign, in celebration of her first year as sole monarch. There had been little enough cause for celebration at her coronation, taking place as it did during a time of great grief and confusion. 

Gwen had been avoiding thinking about it; as disturbing as it was to have lived an entire year without Arthur, it was even more disturbing that she could now go days and even weeks without thinking of him with longing. As such much of the burden of arranging the tournament had fallen to the council, to the servants, and to Leon and Percival; this last one had left Gwen feeling especially guilty, her two knights were already overworked.

She was attempting to contribute and make amends by writing personal invitations to certain nobles she was particularly keen to have attend. 

It was getting late, and Gwen was already in her nightdress. Her maidservant was standing by, waiting for the queen to announce that she was ready for bed. But Gwen wanted to finish these letters tonight, and there was little point keeping the girl from her own bed.

"You can leave for the night, Sara."

"Oh, my lady, no--"

Sara had been Gwen's personal servant for a little over three moons; it was the longest she'd kept a maidservant in years. She blamed her experiences with Sefa, and of course with Morgana. She was sharp when she did not need to be, and suspicious where there was no cause. It was one of the things she had resolved would be different now, and there was genuine warmth in her voice when she said, "Truly, Sara, I can extinguish my own candles."

The girl turned to leave and nearly jumped out of her skin when she came face to face with Morgana, who had somehow arrived inside the queen's bedchamber silently and without alerting the guards stationed outside.

"Sara, go," Gwen said gently. The girl departed, shooting a look of loathing at Morgana as she passed. 

"That one doesn't like me," said Morgana, sliding uninvited into the chair across the desk from Gwen. 

"How did you get in here, Morgana?" Gwen asked wearily. "I didn't hear the door."

"I've had plenty of practice at being the ghost in this castle, remember?"

Gwen returned her attention to her letters; she was not about to indulge Morgana in her ridiculous self-pity. 

One of the more irksome things about Morgana was her singular failure to go away however long you ignored her for, and Gwen ought to know having been trying for the better part of a decade. She gave up and said, "You killed her father, you know."

"Who?" said Morgana, blankly.

"Sara. My maid. It's why she hates you."

Morgana squirmed momentarily; she might have been discomfited by what Gwen had told her, or she might just have been trying to get more comfortable in her chair. "I had my reasons, I'm sure," she said with a dismissive gesture.

"Not really. When Leon and his fellows wouldn't swear you fealty you had your men fire at unarmed bystanders, Sara's father was one of those hit."

Morgana's gaze slipped away from Gwen and she stared out the window, even though at this late hour she couldn't possibly see anything. "That was... badly done," she said, and then in a quieter voice, but still pitched for Gwen to hear, she added, "I should just have shot the damn knights and had done with it."

"Why do you say these things?" Gwen snapped. "Who could it possibly help? Every time I think that maybe you understand... maybe you actually _care_...you go and--"

Gwen stood; she was trembling, she hoped it was with rage. She was going to summon the guards. She was going to summon the guards and have Morgana removed, from her chambers, from the castle, from the kingdom... bodily, if necessary. 

"Gwen, wait!" said Morgana, her voice tinged with desperation. She reached out but wisely stopped short of actually grabbing the queen. "Gwen. My lady. I'm sorry, I _am._ "

"What for?" Gwen asked, because it suddenly seemed desperately important to know whether Morgana was sorry for anything that she'd actually _done_ , or if she just regretted risking exile by provoking Gwen beyond endurance. 

"For what I did to the townsfolk. It was badly done, I know that. Even my sister thought it cruel. I think that was the first time she truly disapproved of anything about me. But I am sorry, honestly."

 _What else are you sorry for?_ Gwen wanted to ask, but didn't. She was a queen now, and she had a good sized kingdom to run. She was no longer a serving girl, slightly overpaid to pet and cosset Morgana into good temper. 

If Morgana needed her hand held while she searched for something like redemption then she could look to someone else to do it.

Still, she had actually said that she was sorry, and that meant something; even if all it meant was that Gwen was not harboring a truly remorseless monster within her walls.

"I need to go to bed," said Gwen, pressing her fingers against her eyelids. "Leave, would you?"

*

Gwen was utterly unsurprised when she looked up midmorning the next day to find Morgana sitting across the desk from her. She sighed, counted slowly to ten, and returned her attention to the letter she was endeavoring to finish.

The parchment was snatched away from Gwen by an invisible force, and she looked up just in time to see it soar easily into Morgana's grasp, and for Morgana's eyes to fade back to their usual grey colour.

Gwen knew that Morgana still used magic, of course; for one thing she highly doubted that her ability to appear suddenly in rooms without alerting anybody to her presence was solely due to being light on her feet. But she usually wasn't quite this brazen about it. 

Even worse, she knew why Morgana was doing it: it was like a person prodding at a loose tooth with her tongue, even though it was painful, and as likely to finally knock the tooth out as anything. 

Morgana appeared to be engrossed in the parchment, but Gwen could see the way her shoulders were set and how she kept shooting Gwen _I dare you_ looks from under her eyelashes.

Gwen leaned back in her chair and said, "You know that's illegal."

"Oh, yes," said Morgana, her voice dripping poison, "I know."

The silence was long and loaded, and Morgana cracked first. She shook herself slightly, and turned her attention to the parchment she'd stolen in earnest. "Annis of Carleon, Mithian of Nemeth, Godwyn and Elena of Gawant--" Morgana read, and looked up at Gwen questioningly.

Not that she would ever care to hear Morgana's opinion on the guest list-- "For the celebrations. Friends and allies of Camelot."

"Allies," said Morgana with a smirk. Her smirks made Gwen's skin crawl and her eyes roll in equal proportion now. "Funny, I never saw much evidence of alliances, not even when I declared war on my brother."

Arthur had been proud, and he would not have asked anybody else to fight in a battle that he felt was his and his alone. And later... well, those rulers had been allies of Arthur's, they hardly knew Guinevere. It was something she was determined to change now.

"I suppose I can't really judge Arthur overmuch for that," said Morgana thoughtfully. "I had terrible difficulty holding onto allies too. Of course, I did kill mine whenever I was having a bad day."

 _Or a Tuesday, apparently,_ Gwen would have said had she felt that Morgana's bizarre train of thought deserved a response. 

*

Princess Elena would not be attending the tournament. Her father was in ill health and not expected to live much longer, and she feared being away from his bedside when the worst happened. 

She did send good wishes, and a gift of a fine stallion. Gwen was no expert on horses, having taken up riding late in life, but both Leon and Percival declared it a magnificent beast. 

"All the king's horses and all the king's men," Morgana said in scathing tones, and Gwen refused to acknowledge her for the better part of a week.

It was rather interesting that Morgana, who had once held five kingdoms in fear of her power and temper, could be sent scrambling after Gwen's attention like an overlooked middle child. 

She tried not to take advantage of it. At least, not too often.

*

Queen Mithian arrived first, with her retinue in tow.

"I was sorry to hear of your father's death, my lady," said Gwen, after greeting the other queen in the courtyard.

"As I was sorry to hear about Arthur. He was a great man and will be missed."

After Morgana's far less flinching view of her brother, Gwen felt a lump rise in her throat at Mithian's words. "Thank you."

*

It was later, at a private meeting in Gwen's chambers, after the wine had been poured and the servants had withdrawn, that Gwen said, "I know we have never been friends--"

Mithian shook her head slightly but didn't deny it. "I don't think our relationship ever fully recovered from that time I shot you with a crossbow."

"Well, as I was a deer at the time, and as it was Morgana who turned me into the animal and I somehow manage to remain on mostly civil terms with her, I won't hold it against you."

"It's true, then." The smile had vanished from Mithian's face, and she was clenching her wine goblet so tightly that her fingers turned white. "She's here."

Gwen didn't know what to say. Morgana was a prisoner? Notionally true, at least; albeit one with an uncommon amount of freedom and access to Camelot's queen. Morgana had saved Gwen's life? One good act did not erase all her prior evil ones. Morgana was different now? Well, she was _trying_ , at least, but that would not necessarily mean anything to Mithian, there were still days where it meant very little to Guinevere.

"She will not harm anyone within Camelot," Gwen settled on, deciding that it was probably true. "And you will not have to see her."

"Good," said Mithian shortly. "I would prefer not to."

*

Most of the knights participating in the tournament were visitors to Camelot. 

Percival took part, while Leon guarded the queen. Gwen had declared herself unwilling to risk having both her champions injured at once, especially when the closest thing they had to a court physician was the old townswoman who set bones and helped deliver babies, and had been doing so since Gwen was a babe herself.

On the second day Percival was defeated by Queen Annis's champion. 

"Congratulations, my lady," said Gwen, inclining her head towards Annis.

Annis leaned close to Gwen and under the cover of the applause said, "So, are we going to talk about Morgana?"

Gwen must have looked surprised. Morgana had taken the instruction to keep her head down to heart and hadn't been seen for days. 

Admittedly, partly out of worry as to what Morgana might be getting up to, and partly in the knowledge that the tournament would make fine cover for another attempt on her life, Gwen half hoped that she was lurking around somewhere unseen.

"News travels, Guinevere. News like Morgana Pendragon travels very fast indeed, even if she has been unusually quiet and well mannered this past year. Your doing, I suppose?"

"In part, at least," said Gwen.

"I think that you're doing the right thing."

"You do?"

"It's what I would do." Annis took in Gwen's incredulous look. "Being a lone queen is difficult, Guinevere, there will always be those who seek to bring you low. You must be pragmatic. By all means keep her on a short leash, but you should make use of Morgana, if you can."

Before Gwen could decide how to respond Sir Percival arrived in the royal stands, looking sheepish and bruised, and she turned away from Annis to congratulate him on fighting bravely.

*

The lists were winding up for the day when a page scampered up the stands to whisper to Gwen that a late arrival had been sighted on the road: King Olaf of Deira.

Gwen frowned. She had invited Olaf, of course, but largely as a courtesy, she had not really expected him to attend. He had been an ally of Uther's once, but their relationship had cooled in the wake of Arthur's brief infatuation with his daughter, and the fact that the Lady Vivian had reportedly long harbored feelings for Arthur had done little to endear the young king to Olaf.

"Make him comfortable, of course," Gwen told the boy. "Tell him I will greet him as soon as I may."

*

Gwen greeted Olaf privately, but it was at the feast afterwards that she learned of his reasons, other than the tournament and to wish her well, for travelling so far.

"I understand you've got Morgana here. I want to see her."

 _What manner of horror did you commit in Deira, you idiot--?_ "I should accompany you, my lord," Gwen insisted.

As she led Olaf through the castle halls Gwen wondered what, exactly, she intended to do if a famed, if aging, warrior and powerful sorceress got into a fight in cramped quarters; aside from diving under the bed to hide, of course.

"Morgana," said Gwen, pushing open the door.

Morgana looked up, her gaze skated over Gwen and landed on Olaf. She stood up and inclined her head slightly. Well, it was better than her atrocious curtsy.

Olaf stepped into the room and took Morgana's hands like they were old friends. Gwen closed her mouth and settled for being quietly baffled with some dignity.

"How's Vivian?" Morgana asked.

"She's better, she's well," said Olaf. "Ruling Deria in my stead at the moment. She will be sorry to have missed you."

"Give her my regards."

"I will. Or you could give them yourself?"

Morgana looked past Olaf to Gwen-- "I fear if I left Camelot at the moment I would not be allowed to return."

"Well," said Olaf, "perhaps soon."

"Yes, perhaps."

Olaf released Morgana's hands and stepped back. "I should be getting back to the feast. I believe Annis had something she wished to discuss with me." He nodded formally to both Gwen and Morgana. To Gwen he said, "I believe I can find my own way, my lady," and to Morgana he added, "You're doing the right thing, you know."

Morgana let Gwen's astonished silence linger for a moment before she said, "His daughter was cursed. It was a terrible spell, cursed to love Arthur Pendragon until the end of her days. Can you think of anything worse?"

"Morgana," said Gwen, pointedly.

"Oh." Morgana looked sideways at Gwen. "Right. I forgot who I was speaking to, there."

"Yes, you seem to forget that quite often," Gwen said drily. "And you just, what, helped her out of the goodness of your heart?"

"You really think I did nothing with the past ten years of my life other than sit in the forest and hate you, don't you?"

It was because that was exactly what Gwen did think that she didn't say, _No, you were at the bottom of that pit for at least two of them._

" And I had hoped," Morgana admitted grudgingly, "that by helping his daughter Olaf would ally with me against Camelot--"

 _That_ did surprise Gwen, because Morgana had seemed passingly fond of Olaf, and genuinely pleased to have news of Vivian. Gwen had never known her to take rejection nearly so well.

"--But he wouldn't risk his daughter again, and even I could respect that. Anyway," Morgana added as she turned away, "it was a godawful curse."

*

On the last day of the tournament there was a demonstration by the youngsters that Leon was training up to knighthood; they fought with blunted swords and rode at rings. 

They were orphans all, four boys and a girl. Leon had balked at the girl at first, and privately Gwen thought that Arthur might have too. But Gwen had thought of Isolde, and of Lancelot too, and said that anyone who wished to fight for Camelot should be offered the chance to prove their worth. 

Not so long ago Leon had come to her and swallowed his words; his female charge, Britomart, was showing as much promise as any of the boys, and he fully supported Gwen in changing the code of knighthood. 

*

The tournament had been a success; but the tournament had not been the point, the treaty had been. 

Annis, Mithian, and Olaf had all signed. And Mithian was sure Elena would agree when the grief had passed and she was ready to think of matters of state again. 

Mutual defense, loans of men, arms, and supplies in times of need, trade, free passage through each other's lands. The benefits were many; and not least of them was that in the face of their combined strength Lot and Odin seemed like an insignificant threat.

Gwen wasn't sure how she had expected Morgana to react to the news. On some unworthy level she'd wanted her to be angry. _I don't need you, I don't need Merlin, and I don't need magic, I can do this by myself._

What she hadn't expected was for Morgana to burst out laughing; it wasn't her usual darkly bitter laugh, either, but loud and delighted and more than half-mad. 

"Do you believe in prophecies, Queen Guinevere?" Morgana asked, brushing tears of mirth away from her face.

"No."

"Well, perhaps you ought to start. The Once and Future _King_ who will unite Albion." Another bark of laughter burst from Morgana. "They were only one word off, after all."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part IV: In which Gwen and Morgana take a road trip to visit the druids, and finally stop dancing around the subject of magic in Camelot.

Gwen looked up from the parchment and regarded Sir Leon, from the expression on his face it was obvious that what was written was at least in some way true.

"Gwen--" he said.

"Why was I never told about any of this?"

"It happened during the time that Arthur had..." Leon paused awkwardly, "sent you away."

That, thought Gwen, was an excessively delicate way of phrasing it. 

"There was never a reason to mention it. The druids never pursued the issue, Elyan didn't remember most of it, and Arthur would not have worried you."

Gwen again looked over the letter. She knew very little about the druids, and wished she'd pressed Gaius for information when she'd had the chance. Now there was only--

"Fetch Morgana for me," said Gwen. Leon frowned but turned away and obeyed.

*

"The Lady Morgana," Leon announced stiffly, showing Morgana into the queen's chambers.

"He hates having to call me that," said Morgana after Leon's retreating back, "but he's too proper not to use my title."

Arthur had considered revoking Morgana's ladyship; she had inherited her title through Gorlois, and whatever honours Uther might have bestowed upon his bastard daughter he had chosen to withhold, but it had seemed too _small_ , too insignificant a punishment for all her crimes. Gwen didn't say any of this, though, and handed Morgana the parchment without a word.

Morgana read over the letter with a delicately arched eyebrow; it was a stylised gesture, void of real surprise. "Arthur promised the druids peace and respect. These were not forthcoming. Would you like me to fall down dead from shock?"

 _Well..._ thought Gwen. 

Truly, she was not happy that Arthur had never told her of this, or that Leon had not considered it important enough to mention, but given the choice she would always defend their actions over Morgana's.

"It was a promise coerced out of Arthur by a malevolent spirit, Morgana. Would you have kept such a vow?"

"No," said Morgana simply. "But as I'm a known liar and traitor perhaps you shouldn't take too much comfort from that."

*

The druid boy who'd delivered the message couldn't have been more than ten, obviously chosen for his polite and easy manner as well as his ability to appear non-threatening. He was a good choice, anyone older would have found themselves in Camelot's dungeons rather than brought before its queen. 

The substance of the message was simple enough: the druids had heard of the new alliances that Gwen was trying to forge, as well as how Morgana's presence was tolerated in Camelot, and they wished to offer her a treaty, the same one Arthur had agreed to in somewhat mysterious circumstances years before; the peace, safety, and respect of all parties. 

The druid elders invited Gwen to meet with their representative to discuss terms.

"I can come back tomorrow for your answer," the boy had said, flashing a grin which he was obviously used to winning adults round.

"Come back in a week," Gwen had said.

*

Leon was not happy about the meeting. 

It was not the druids themselves he objected to - of all Camelot's knights Leon had the most natural sympathy with them, they had once saved his life - it was the location he did not like.

"They will not come to Camelot," said Gwen. "I am not so trusting as to deliver myself into one of their established camps beyond our borders, and Morgana says they like the Valley of Fallen Kings no more than we do."

The Valley of Fallen Kings; the suggestion might have been Morgana's idea of a joke, unfortunately she also had a point, it was the closest thing to neutral ground they were going to find within Camelot's boundaries. 

"I'll ride the day after tomorrow," said Gwen. "You'll remain here--"

"Your majesty!" 

"You'll stay in the castle as my regent." Gwen took Leon's hands in hers and squeezed. "Please don't argue. You're the only one I trust to rule in my stead. I'll be perfectly safe, Percival and Morgana will accompany me." Leon did not look much mollified by this, and Gwen said, "She will not allow any harm to come to me."

This, at least, Gwen believed to be true. And while Morgana might allow Percival or the other guards to die by her inaction and fail to see what was wrong with that, she would not act directly against them.

"And perhaps having a high priestess in our company will work in our favour when it comes time to meet the druids." 

Even as she spoke, Gwen heard how unconvincing her words sounded. High priestess or not, Morgana was not always in full command of her own mind, let alone the larger community of sorcerers.

*

"My lady, she is still technically a prisoner," Percival muttered, low enough that his voice wouldn't carry to Morgana. 

A growing crowd of townspeople were gathering to watch the royal party depart, and most of them were staring at Morgana with expressions ranging from anxiety to horror. Gwen couldn't blame them, Morgana hadn't been outside the castle walls for nigh on a year now, and while the courtiers and castle servants had become reluctantly used to her, the last time most of these people had seen her she would have been their worst nightmare of the tyrant witch queen.

Gwen nodded to Percival and led him over to Morgana. She was already on horseback, jaw clenched and decidedly not meeting the eyes of any of the people staring at her.

Percival produced a short length of rope. Morgana stared incredulously at Gwen, who met her gaze levelly.

"Do you know how easily I could escape those bonds?"

"Yes," said Gwen, thinking of empty jangling manacles, and that was just to begin with.

"Do they?" Morgana inclined her head towards their spectators.

"Probably," Gwen conceded, but she didn't think it would make anyone feel better to know that they were kept safe more by Morgana's fragile self-control and the waxing and waning of Gwen's influence over the sorceress, than by any physical restraints.

Morgana nodded with something like satisfaction. She held her hands out and suffered Percival to bind her wrists together and loop the knot around the pommel of the saddle. 

"Morgana--" Gwen began, then settled for jerking the sleeves of Morgana's dress down to cover the ropes. 

Moments later they were cantering away, the castle to their backs. 

*

They stopped for the midday meal and to rest the horses. Morgana dismounted, the ropes falling away from her wrists as if by... well, yes. 

She shot a challenging look at Gwen, who ignored her and handed off her own mount to the waiting squire. If she had learned nothing else this past year, she had learned when to pick her battles with Morgana, and as they both knew the ropes had been for nothing more than appearances...

"I would have thought you'd be pleased," said Gwen, "that I'm meeting with the druids."

"The _druids._ " Morgana gave a snort of disgust loud enough that the horse whose bridle she was still holding echoed it back at her.

"I remember when you would drive Uther to distraction defending the druids, Morgana."

"Do you know why people defend the druids, Guinevere? It's because they're _nice._ When the great purge began they ran, and they hid, and when that didn't work they lined up patiently to be massacred. They never rose up, never fought back--"

"What you mean," Gwen interrupted, "is that they wouldn't fight for you."

Morgana gave a wan smile. "It was for the best, I assure you. I'm not sure I ever would have felt clean again had I allied with a group of people who venerate Merlin as a religious figure."

" _What?_ "

But Morgana had already turned her back on Gwen, and was rummaging through the saddlebags for something to feed her mount. 

*

For that afternoon's ride Gwen gradually nudged her horse over to one side so that she was riding next to Morgana. 

"Merlin, really?"

"Yes, Merlin... or I suppose we should say _Emrys_ , really. The prophesied savior of magic, druids, and, I don't know, baby unicorns everywhere." 

Morgana's laugh was high and bitter, and caused Gwen's mare to shy slightly while Morgana's own mount remained steady. Morgana had always had an effortless way with horses; perhaps that was magic of a sort, too.

After all, she'd never asked: was magic something innately violent and cruel that had stolen away Arthur's sister, or had Morgana in her madness twisted something that could have been beautiful? 

Gwen shifted her weight in the saddle, tugged crossly on the reins, and said, "I don't see what's so funny."

"You mean, aside from the fact that I could throw a rock in a crowed marketplace and hit a better messiah than Merlin."

 _You hate that it wasn't you,_ Gwen thought, _you hate that you didn't matter, in the end._

"At least Merlin's way didn't have a death-toll."

"Oh, it did," said Morgana bitterly. "Believe me, it did. I was at least three of them." And with that she spurred her horse into a gallop, scattering the packhorses ahead of them.

* 

There was a tent for the queen; it was a warm spring night and the rest of the party slept on bedrolls under the stars. 

Partly for the sake of propriety as she was the only other woman present, and partly because dark storm clouds had been swirling around her since they'd spoken of Merlin and Gwen didn't relish the idea of letting her seethe in the dark for hours, but Morgana slept in with Gwen. 

Every muscle in Gwen's body was protesting the day's long ride; queens needed to ride more often than maidservants, but tell that to Gwen's lower back.

"There was a prophecy that Merlin was going to restore magic to Camelot?" Gwen asked. She couldn't have cared in the slightest if she woke Morgana up, but she didn't think the other woman was asleep, and at certain points in her misspent youth she'd been quite the expert on Morgana's sleeping patterns.

Morgana sighed. "There was a prophecy that Merlin would restore magic to the land, there was a prophecy that _I_ would restore magic to the land. In the end we accomplished little more than tripping over each other. Although," added Morgana, obviously compelled to defend her own lack of progress, "at least I tried."

_You also killed a lot of innocent people. You certainly did, and I no longer know what to believe of Merlin--_

"There was even a prophecy about my brother..."

"Arthur was supposed to return magic to Camelot?" Gwen asked, she loved her husband beyond the telling of it, but that seemed... unlikely. 

"The Once and Future King who will unite Albion and restore magic to the land. Never have faith in a prophecy, Gwen, that way madness lies. And if you don't believe me, just ask Merlin."

I wouldn't have to look nearly so far, thought Gwen.

"You've spoken of that prophecy before," she said, "almost as though it were about me."

Morgana sat up sharply, the brazier was lying between them, all but burnt down, and Gwen could see its light reflecting in Morgana's shining eyes. 

"It's not. It might be funny if it were, you were the only one never mentioned, but it's _not_ \-- Guinevere, if you want to be the finest ruler Camelot has ever known, do it, it's not a high bar to clear. If you want to unite the kingdoms, well, you're halfway there already. If you wish to legalise magic, I'll--" Morgana lapsed into silence for a moment, lost for words. "But do it because you want to, not because some senile dragon or--" her teeth flashed in dark "--mad sorceress tells you it's your destiny. Nothing good ever comes from a belief in fate."

"That's a strange point of view for a prophetess to hold," said Gwen.

"Well," said Morgana, settling back down onto her bedroll, "it's not as though anything good ever came from my visions."

"Is that your excuse, Morgana, a prophecy made me do it?" Gwen asked, she waited a long time for a response that didn't come, and eventually sleep snuck past her aching muscles and claimed her.

*

The horses were being saddled in the morning when Morgana said, "Do you know what Camelot's laws regarding magic actually are?"

Gwen almost refused to dignify the implication that she didn't know her own laws with a response-- "It's illegal to perform magic in Camelot."

"It's illegal to _be_ magic in Camelot. I could have stayed in my chambers and remained the king's tragic, nightmare-wracked ward. It wouldn't have mattered if I never raised a finger against Camelot, or if I never harmed a hair on Arthur's charmed golden head. No one would have cared that I didn't ask for this, or that the visions were shredding my mind more each night. I would still have been a witch, and burning would still have been too good for me."

Gwen was unmoved, she said, "That's your excuse, then, better to be hanged for a sheep as a lamb?"

Morgana smiled wanly. "If I had a better reason to give you, Gwen, I'd offer it up."

*

It was true that the laws of Camelot had not changed in thirty years. But Arthur had not pursued magicians as ruthlessly as his father had, and Gwen less so yet--

Although at least part of that was her discomfort with the hypocrisy of it all. She could not execute people for using magic while she spared Morgana; just because she was guilty of far worse did not make her possession of magic any less of a crime.

"Percival," Gwen called her knight to her side.

"My lady?"

"My magistrates, the ones who apply the royal decrees, do they still enforce the laws about magic."

Percival gave her a puzzled smile. "Why wouldn't they? And some of the older men date back to Uther's day, so..."

*

The day's ride was quiet, even Morgana seemed lost in whatever passed for thoughts inside her head.

When they made camp that evening Gwen's muscles, which had relaxed over the second day's ride, seized up again, and she was woken from her doze by the sound of Morgana creeping from the tent. 

She should wake Percival, Gwen knew. She was queen of Camelot, and it was unforgivably reckless of her to risk herself by sneaking off after Morgana without telling anyone where she was going. 

But if she roused the entire camp and it was nothing...

She decided she would follow Morgana, just for a moment, before deciding on a course of action. 

It was a new moon, and with her dark hair and dark clothes it would have been impossible to follow Morgana had she not been in a hurry and careless about making noise; whenever her dress snagged on the underbrush she grumbled and cursed with a will.

The clearing they stumbled across seemed at first much more brightly lit than the rest of the landscape, and it took Gwen a moment to realise that it was the starlight reflecting off the scales of a white dragon. The creature had grown significantly since Gwen had seen it last. 

Gwen stayed secluded in the tree line as Morgana hurried into the clearing. 

" _Aithusa,_ " she breathed.

The dragon lowered her head and nuzzled Morgana forcefully enough to knock the sorceress down onto the grass, and Morgana laughed. Gwen was used to Morgana's bitter, cynical, mad laughter. This was different, it was tinged with no sort of unhappiness.

Suddenly Gwen felt like the worst sort of spy and intruder, she turned and crept back the way she'd come. 

*

Come morning and Morgana was back in the camp, and in a temper so good that Gwen wondered if she should find it worrisome. 

"You should have stayed last night, I would have introduced you to Aithusa--" seemingly even the knowledge that Gwen had been following her wasn't enough to dampen Morgana's high spirits "--I know she would like you, she's an excellent judge of character." 

As alarming as Morgana's good mood was, Gwen would not spoil it without reason, so she refrained from saying that she had nothing but evidence to the contrary regarding Aithusa's sound judgment. 

"She's been teaching herself to talk," Morgana continued, mostly oblivious as to whether or not Gwen was actually listening to her. "She was still a baby when I last saw her properly, and now she can talk." 

"What has she been saying?" Gwen asked, partly because she was curious as to what a talking dragon might have to say for itself, and partly because encouraging Morgana's cheerful babble about the dragon would discourage her from questioning Gwen on the direction of her thoughts regarding magic in Camelot.

"She saw Merlin."

"What--?" Gwen began, not entirely sure what she actually meant to ask.

"She _flew away from him_ ," said Morgana. "She left a dragonlord. She said he was a liar, that he said bad things about me."

"The latter doesn't make the former true, Morgana."

"It doesn't make it untrue, either."

*

They reached the Valley of the Fallen Kings that afternoon, only to find that the druid party had already arrived.

Gwen was escorted to their leader, accompanied by Percival and Morgana. His name was Brennan, and he was a man of middle years with a shrewd expression. 

He bowed to Gwen. "Your majesty." And inclined his head to Percival, and then Morgana. "Sir knight. Lady priestess."

"My lord," said Gwen.

"Perhaps we might speak alone, my queen?"

Both Percival and Morgana looked reluctant to be separated from Gwen, though most likely for very different reasons.

*

The finer points of the treaty were hashed out well into the night.

Brennan was not prepared to take Gwen's unsecured word that the druids would be treated honourably "--with respect, your majesty, we once took King Arthur's word for that." He wished the laws of Camelot changed to legalise the magic of the druids."--How your laws treat other sorcerers I will leave to your conscience as a monarch."

Gwen felt her face heat. "It must go both ways. The druids must come to the kingdom's aid when needed."

"It what capacity? We do not believe in using magic for violent ends."

Well, thought Gwen, that makes at least one of you.

"I have need of a court physician, and I have heard that the druids are skilled with medicines."

"I'll have a candidate ready for you to meet in the morning."

And just like that the druids and Camelot were at peace; Gwen would have expected to feel better about it. 

*

The next day Gwen found a young druid boy, the same one who had delivered the original invitation to these talks, sitting outside her tent.

"Hello," he said, quite cheerfully. "I'm here about the job."

"Aren't you a little young to be a physician?"

"I--" 

"Caleb!" a woman called out, she was about a decade older than Gwen and reminded her comfortingly of a younger Hunith, and by extension of Merlin. "My son isn't bothering you is he, my lady?"

"No, he's fine."

"I'm Aislinn," she introduced herself. "Brennan said that you were in want of a physician. I took the liberty of preparing this--" she offered Gwen a jar of salve "--apply it to your back morning and evening, you'll find the riding easier."

Before Gwen could offer her thanks, or ask how Aislinn had know her back troubled her, a slightly loaded hush fell over the camp. Morgana had emerged from her tent and several druid youths were jostling each other, seeming to dare one another to approach her.

Aislinn pursued her lips in disapproval. "They idolise her, you know. We lost a lot of youngsters to her foolish war."

"Mordred--?"

"No. Many people failed Mordred before her." Aislinn shook her head ruefully. "Perhaps the elders are to blame too, they could have offered them some other way; it should not have been a choice between Morgana's war and the futile hope that Emrys would someday remember us."

*

On the journey back to Camelot Gwen talked to Aislinn about medicine and magic. Aislinn readily agreed that she would not treat anyone with magic who did not wish for it, she knew plenty of anatomy and herb lore too.

Caleb somehow discovered that Morgana was friends with a dragon and took to following her around asking endless questions about Aithusa. Morgana regarded her new shadow with mild irritation and something that could only be described as _preening._

At night it was no longer her aching muscles that kept Gwen awake, Aislinn's salve worked _wonders_ , it was thoughts of what she must do when she returned to Camelot.

She could not say that magic was allowable for some, especially if it was only those closest to the court, and not for others; that was almost crueler than a blanket ban and persecution. 

*

There were meetings which, if they were not endless, certainly felt it. 

Sometimes they ended in bitter silence, occasionally in shouting and recriminations, and once in a small fire; after which Morgana was informed in no uncertain terms that she would not be allowed to attend until she had learned to better control herself. 

Leon and Percival wished to insist that no one with magic should be eligible for knighthood; Aislinn objected because it was young Caleb's latest ambition, and Gwen overruled them because it had been Arthur's dream for the knights of the round table to come from all walks of life, and if he hadn't meant women or sorcerers, well, it was the dream that mattered. 

Assaulting someone using magic would be treated no differently from assaulting someone with an axe. 

Love spells would be banned still. That was Aislinn's suggestion, and Gwen came away with the impression that there was a sad story behind Caleb's conception, and hoped that the healer would one day feel close enough to her to share it.

It was actually Morgana who suggested that using magic to take away someone's will should still be punishable by death. 

And maybe she was still thinking about dragons and dragonlords, but Gwen had to believe that somewhere in her heart she remembered the Dark Tower, and mandrakes, and Gwen's screams.

*

"I, Guinevere Pendragon, do declare that from this day forth magic is legal within the kingdom of Camelot."

*

The reactions to Gwen's announcement ran the gamut from delighted to bitterly angry, but mostly hovered in the vicinity of shocked. 

It was Percival who found Gwen in the midst of all this.

"Morgana's gone," he said.

Gwen frowned. She hadn't seen Morgana when she was making her announcement, true, but she'd just assumed... 

It also hadn't occurred to her that after eighteen months Percival would still have had a constant, if subtle, guard on Morgana. She smiled fondly at her knight.

"I'll send riders after her."

"No," said Gwen. After all, what good would it do to drag Morgana back in chains? And she felt some bizarre sense of satisfaction, like she was in some way responsible for the fact that Morgana could most likely be trusted out in the world without being a menace to herself or to others.

"No, let her be."


	5. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part V: In which it is a brave new world.

A year had passed since Gwen had changed the laws of Camelot to allow magic, and despite the direst of predictions the kingdom had failed to collapse into ruin. 

Tonight, they were celebrating the first anniversary of the new laws. It would not have been Gwen's first inclination, but every year for twenty years Uther had celebrated the great purge, and she was always happy to set herself apart from her father-in-law.

Musicians played and wine circulated. Annis and Elena were visiting from their respective kingdoms; and judging by the slightly wide-eyed look on Elena's face Annis was dispatching one of her harsh lessons on queenhood. 

Leon and Percival were being waited on hand and foot by Britomart and Erec; those two were serving their last night as squires, they would be knighted on the morrow, the first of Gwen's reign.

Aislinn the court physician was alternating between enjoying the food and wine and making largely unsuccessful attempts to keep her son Caleb out from underfoot. In the year since he'd first come to Camelot Caleb had endeared himself to the entire court, including and especially Guinevere; she would not act until she had a chance to have a serious talk with his mother, but she had the boy in mind as a potential heir.

In the midst of all this merriment Gwen felt a shiver, and the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck stood up. 

She left the hall to walk the balcony surrounding the inner courtyard and take some air. She was not at all surprised when halfway through her circuit a shadow peeled itself away from one of the pillars.

"Morgana," she said.

"Queen Guinevere." Morgana gave a curtsy; it was still atrocious.

"How did you get here?"

"By dragon," said Morgana nonchalantly.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that."

"As you wish."

"Where have you been?"

"Oh, you know," said Morgana with a mysterious smirk, "here and there."

 _Be like that, then,_ thought Gwen. Dragon or not, there were only so many places Morgana could have spent a year without being run out with torches and pitchforks.

"How's the Lady Vivian?"

"Ha!" Morgana's laugh came out like a bark; undignified, unladylike, and real. "Better than she was, a little annoying, best in small doses."

"Sounds familiar. I can see why you two get along," said Gwen. "Are you going to come inside?"

"I think not. I just came to say... thank you."

There was sincerity there, Gwen could tell, despite the fact that the last two words sounded like they were being pulled from Morgana's mouth with pliers. And Morgana could have meant anything from thank you for legalising magic, to thank you for not leaving me to rot in Camelot's dungeons.

"It's--" Gwen began. "I'm not sure I'll ever entirely trust magic. I'll certainly never trust you, and we'll never be friends--"

"I'm not fifteen years old anymore, Gwen, your friendship is no longer my fondest wish in this life."

"But when I think about the alternatives this is... better."

"Yes, it is."

"Perhaps you would come to the second anniversary celebrations next year?"

"Yes, I think I would like that."

"Perhaps you could even come in through the front gate."

Morgana disappeared with a swirl of magic and a peal of laughter.

Gwen smiled fondly; after all it was dark out here and there was no one to see.


End file.
